


I blinked and the world was gone

by madsmurf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Episode: s03e10 The Overlooked, Happy Ending, Inspired by Music, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Not Beta Read, Post-Episode: s03e10 The Overlooked, Rape/Non-con Elements, Song Lyrics Within Text, Suicidal Thoughts, True Alpha Scott, Uneasy Allies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 23:37:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsmurf/pseuds/madsmurf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has been running, forever it seems; running until he can’t breathe and Deucalion stands in front of him, a condescending smirk at his lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I blinked and the world was gone

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a bunch of song lyrics within the text, but mainly by At Home by Crystal Fighters.
> 
> There is badwrong touch between Deucalion and Scott; it is not that explicit but it is there and described a tiny bit, so be warned. This is set after The Overlooked with a major difference in that scene.
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes you find, please heed the warnings/tags and gimme a shout if I've missed any.

_I never thought I see you again, I never thought I could get to be with my best friend_

He has been running, forever it seems; running until he can’t breathe and Deucalion stands in front of him, a condescending smirk at his lips. His posture almost seems pitying and Scott wants nothing more than to reach up and tear out his throat, to feel Deucalion’s blood drip down his chin. His eyes flash red, not that Deucalion can see, and he’s halfway from carrying out his thought, claws extended and poised to strike when a hand lands on his shoulder squeezing in warning. It’s Kali, he knows from the sharpness as her nails dig into his shoulder. Her warning is silent and Deucalion continues to walk down the path leading to the next town unfortunate enough to cross Deucalion.

 

The twins pass him and Scott wants them dead too; wants nothing more than to have them both split into two, their organs spewed across the forest floor. It’s Kali’s hand (her claws) that stop him from pouncing, from digging his own claws in and just pulling, shredding. He has never felt so much hate towards so many people at once. He suspects his ability to give second chances died when Stiles’ body hit the floor; throat spilling blood against the hospital roof, washing away in the rain.

 

He lets out a snarl, shrugging Kali’s hand away; to her credit she keeps her amusement hidden in her eyes. It’s only the thought that, she too, has the same goals as him that keeps him from leaving any lasting damage. She seems to sense it in the way that she squeezes the back of his neck once before walking ahead.

 

He drags his feet, dirt staining his shoes and he wants nothing more than to run in the opposite direction; run to another world where Stiles was still by his side and not ten feet under. Scott raises his, still clawed, hand and swipes at the nearest tree; keeping back the grief stricken roar that threatens to break free every time he takes a breath.

 

Stopping only when Deucalion comes back and drags him away with a firm hand and false kindness; which Scott suspects might be Deucalion genuinely being kind. What happens when they reach Deucalion’s room in an overpriced three-bedroom apartment, Scott locks down and never truly thinks about until he’s left alone with his grief.

 

_I will love you long after you’re gone; you’re my backbone, my cornerstone, my rugged heart, like a drum don’t stop beating; my heart never stops beating for you_

 

He sees Stiles in his dreams; in these dreams they are happy. Everyone is alive. Smiling, having fun, being normal; his mother hugs him and he feels warm; Stiles presses a kiss to his forehead and can believe that the dream is real, can desperately hope. In some dreams they just sit and play videogames and watch Star Wars over and over until he can recite the lines word for word. Sometimes they’re travelling across the country, music blaring out of Stiles’ jeep as they move from one pit stop to the next; they eat too many burgers and drink too many shakes. It’s peaceful and what he thinks the world would be like, if the bite had never happened.

 

He wakes up crying, silent, as Deucalion sleeps next to him.

 

He wants to tear out his own heart; if only that would make it stop aching.

 

_I should have walked away; I just died in your arms tonight, I should have walked away_

It’s raining and Scott feels like screaming. He can’t; not if he wants to protect his mother from Deucalion’s claws. So he stays silent and waits for Deucalion to finish his meeting with one of the packs from New York.

 

Stiles had wanted to go to New York; had wanted it to be the first place they visited on their year long road trip that they had planned since they were six. He swallows back the lump in his throat that promised a sob if he didn’t keep it down. Clenching his hands into fists he lets his claws dig into his palms; most of all he tries to not think about Stiles. Deucalion turns his head and smiles at him, as though he can see straight through Scott.

 

Scott wants nothing more than to rip Deucalion’s head clear off his shoulders.

 

Instead he answers the New York alpha’s questions. Yes he was a true alpha. Yes he was content with where he was. No he hadn’t killed anyone. No he didn’t have anyone special. Of course he would love to spend the night in your company. He lies with a practiced tongue and he feels sick with every word said. It does its job; Deucalion gains more power, more influence and Scott keeps his mother safe from harm.

 

He hates rain; hates how he sees Stiles’ lifeless eyes with every drop that splatters against the ground.

 

_How can you see into my eyes like open doors, leading you down to my court where I become so numb_

 

Kali is towering over him; foot pressed against his throat, claws digging in just enough to cause pain and not draw blood. He snarls up at her, his own claws dragging down her thigh. She remains unfazed by his attempts.

 

“Deucalion would kill you the moment before you hit the floor” she taunts, “just like your friend Stilinski.”

 

Scott knows, deep down Kali knows exactly what she’s doing by saying those words; it doesn’t stop him though. Doesn’t stop him from grabbing at her ankle and twisting until he hears it snap. It’s when she is unbalanced that pushes up and kicks, catching her side. She goes flying into the wall and he feels nothing but satisfaction of  hearing the sickening crunch of breaking bones.

 

Kali merely laughs, pulling herself up. “Well done, True Alpha, you’ll stand a chance yet.”

 

He doesn’t ask when, she has never given an answer, he just nods and heads out of the room and runs, runs until he’s two states over and hunched over a trashcan. The tears no longer sliding down his cheeks, and his breakfast the contents of the bin.

 

It’s the twins, this time, that drag him back to Deucalion. They don’t speak, not even as they pass him off to Deucalion; Deucalion lets his hands do all his talking and Scott holds back the bile. Wishing, not for the first nor last time, that Stiles had never followed him up to the hospital roof.

 

_You said you’d wait forever but I blinked and the world was gone_

 

Sometimes Scott dreams of Stiles; dreams of Stiles and what they could have been if that night had never happened. He dreams of the way Stiles might have looked with the moonlight shining down against his bare skin. Dreams of the way Stiles might have tasted; might have sounded like when he went down on him. Dreams of the way, before Allison and everything between, Stiles might have improved with the way he kissed. He dreams of a Stiles that he can never have in reality. He lets himself dream a whole another universe where Stiles lived and they confessed their feelings that were hidden deep under the fear of destroying their friendship.

 

In this universe, they live together, and they cuddle while watching Star Wars; after all  he promised if they made it out alive he would watch; so he watches Star Wars in his dreams. They kiss and Stiles tastes sweet; like the time they kissed when they thought they would never get kissed, just before high school, hidden away in Stiles’ room, months before his mother died. Dream Stiles likes to push him down into the couch and make him beg, and he begs, pleads with Stiles to just touch him. Dream Stiles always does.

 

He wakes up hard; Deucalion pressed against his back with a hand curled around, smiling against his neck.

 

“You’re certainly happy this morning.” he says, nipping at Scott’s shoulders, twisting his hand just so.

 

Scott wants to scream, instead he goes limp, blinking back the tears. He wants Stiles.

 

_Love of mine, someday you will die, but I will be close behind I’ll follow you into the dark_

 

It’s Kali that deals the final blow; Scott watches as Deucalion falls, watches as the twins receive the same fate, watches until it’s just Kali and him. He backs into a tree, and watches as she approaches him. Her moves are precise, calculated. Scott flinches when she cups his cheek in her hand, crouching down to his level. He stinks of fear, and hope; hope that she’ll end it, end him.

 

“Well done, True Alpha, now scurry on home, a gift awaits you.”

 

Then she’s gone. Scott doesn’t move for what seems like hours.

 

The stench of Deucalion’s and the twins’ bodies hits him and he runs, runs until he can’t run anymore, it’s then he sneaks onto pickup trucks. He makes his way home; Kali’s words ringing in his head. He manages to scrounge up food from kind waitresses who take pity on his rundown clothes and naive smile. It takes him weeks but he finally manages to step foot back into Beacon Hills on the back of a blue pickup truck that reminds him so much that he has to dig his claws into his thighs to stop himself from crying out; to stop the pain from becoming too much to bear.

 

He stumbles into Dr Deaton’s clinic first; he doesn’t even look to see if he’s in, just makes a beeline to the backroom. Scott curls up into the space that had protected him from Peter all those months ago and cries. He doesn’t even register the touch until he’s cling to Dr Deaton’s white jacket, sobbing. Begging for him to bring back Stiles; please.

 

It seems like hours when he finally lets go of Dr Deaton’s jacket, hours since the tears have stopped falling and the pleas have been reduced to strangled whimpers. All the way through it Dr Deaton strokes his back and waits.

 

“I can’t - I need him.”

 

Dr Deaton hugs him; and Scott feels so warm, safe and loved for the first time in months, that he nearly breaks down again.

 

“You should go home to your mother Scott.” he says, helping Scott stand.

 

So he does as Dr Deaton asks. He staggers into his old home at the crack of dawn and finds his mother waiting for him. Her eyes are filled with tears, but she says nothing, and pulls him into a hug, stroking his hair. She whispers that everything was going to be okay. Part of him wants to believe that, wants to believe it with all his might, but the other part reminds him that Stiles is dead; it was never going to be okay.

 

He falls asleep in his mother’s arms; and for the first time in months, he doesn’t dream of Stiles.

 

_Going nowhere; the tears are filling up their glasses, no expression; hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow, no tomorrow,  no tomorrow_

 

Scott wakes up in his own room, and he is hit with the harsh scent of Stiles that he ducks his head under his pillow and wishes that he could turn back time, holding back the tears. He doesn’t move, not even when he can hear Isaac moving about downstairs. He should let him know that he was back but he can’t. The scent of Stiles too strong, too soon. Scott clutches at his tattoo. It was like an open wound and he wants to scratch away the two black bands until there was nothing but red. Instead he digs his blunt nails in until his fingers go numb.

 

“Hey come on Scotty, time to get up.”

 

He freezes and waits; surely it was an act of his grief stricken imagination. It couldn’t be ---

 

His covers are pulled off him, the harsh cold air nipping at his exposed skin and doesn’t dare lift his pillow; too afraid of this whole scene being a hallucination. That he was still back in Deucalion’s headquarters, that Kali hadn’t killed him, that Deucalion was still alive and he wasn’t back home. He holds his breath.

 

“Scotty, c’mon.”

 

His pillow is tugged out of his hands and he’s rolled over onto his back.

 

He screams and welcomes the darkness like an old friend.

 

When he wakes up Stiles is looking down at him with concern, a guilty smile playing on his lips. Scott wants to cry.

 

“Hey, hey buddy. I’m okay. Really. It was some weird Lydia and Deaton mumbo jumbo. They even brought back Erica and Boyd. Isaac said it was some fancy light show.”

 

Stiles is hovering, like he is unsure how to handle him; and all Scott can think is please don’t be a dream.

 

“Stiles.”

 

It’s Stiles’ smile that springs him to action; Scott clings to Stiles. Too afraid that if he lets go that he’ll wake up and everything will be gone.

 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you buddy.”

 

_I was running to be by your side; I came a long way to get here_

 

It takes Scott months until he can look at Stiles’ neck; and takes him years before he can touch the scars, but that’s okay because he has Stiles back, he has the years, months and days to wake up beside him.

 

That is better than any dream.

 


End file.
